Reciprocity
by Lvl2DragonTamer
Summary: After all, turnabout is fair play.


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**Reciprocity**  
_After all, turnabout is fair play._

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**1.**

"It is... a beautiful day, isn't it?" The eight-year-old asked over the crowd.

Manfred had "gastro-intestinal distress", whatever that was, and so they both had the day off. For once. It was the first day they had spent outside all year, really.

Miles shrugged. Cherry blossoms on the festivals he only dimly remembered, dragons, odd dresses with floral designs in the windows, those had been beautiful. The little bit of sky they could see was pure blue, and it wasn't so cold that they needed coats. The buildings were meant to be pretty, he supposed, but the steel and the bricks in them ruined it. The grass was nice. But it was nowhere near as beautiful as the other city had been. That he was sure of.

"Fine, little brother." Franziska snapped. "I think it's nice. It's better our rooms inside at least, right?"

"It's better than our rooms inside the house." Miles corrected. "But, yes, it is."

Franziska crossed her arms. "I speak Japanese better than you do German, fool." She meant. What she actually said was somewhere along the lines of "Japanese speak Germans expertly, the fool". "And I am younger than you."

Miles corrected the sentence. Franziska hissed. "Whatever!" She said in German. "It's too beautiful a day for me to concentrate on speaking tongues, idiot brother who stupidly insists on moronic practices. Are you sure there's no other Japanese words than _baka _for one of your intelligence? My insults against you sound so repetitive when I say it in words you can understand."

"Pretty much." Miles answered in German. "My turn to practice anyways. Wow, look at the spangles on that dress, Franziska. It sparkles bright enough to light up the street."

Franziska's head whipped around to the dress in question. Then back to Miles. "How on earth did you learn the word 'spangle' and 'sparkle'? I don't even know what 'spangle' means."

Miles shrugged. "The textbooks Manfred gives me are all in German or English."

"That's not fair!" Franziska yelled and punched her brother in the arm. "If he gave me books in Japanese I would learn it too."

On the other side of the street, two teenage boys noticed the discussion.

"Franziska." Miles said in a totally different tone of voice. "Go back to the house."

"What?" The girl stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Several pedestrians yelled at them for blocking the street and shoved the siblings into an alley. "Because I hit you? Don't be an idiot. You're such a moron, Miles. You may be taller than me, but I'm mentally your superior and you know--"

"Back to the house, Franziska!" Miles hissed. "Now!"

"Look who crawled out of their little dojo." A teenage boy said from above them. Franziska and Miles turned their heads up to see a pair of boys blocking the exit. "Ruffles, you sure you're okay out here? Not going to catch any germs from us common folk and die?"

"Franziska, go back. Now."

"His name," Franziska pulled her arm out of Miles' grip and pointed it at the group of boys just as confidently as if it were a gun, "Is Miles Edgeworth and someday he will be the second-best prosecutor in the world." She noticed their confused looks and added. "I will be the first."

"Hey, it talks." The redheaded one said and squatted so that he was near her eye level. "What's up with the Chinese brother, kid? Mommy a little--"

"He's Japanese, you moron." Franziska put a hand on her hip and fixed him with the glare Miles had caught her practicing in the mirror.

"Big difference."

The glare instantly changed into a smile that a blind man wouldn't mistake for sincere. "I'm glad you possess enough brain cells to understand that."

The boy grinned back and calmly slammed her against a wall. It only took one hand for him to pin her there by the throat.

"Japanese, huh? Where's your Pikachu, Ruffles?" The other one asked.

"Franziska!" Miles yelled.

"Let go of me, you idiot who stupidly practices moronic deeds in foolish hopes of becoming more than an utter retard!"

"You know the drill Ruffles. Money."

"I don't have any." Miles said.

"Bullshit."

Franziska used her free arm to punch the redhead in the eye.

Then things took a turn for the worse.

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"Edgeworth." Manfred von Karma steepled his fingers across the desk. "I take you into my home, despite the callous way your father behaved himself. Despite his crude treatment of my person, I take you, his filthy flesh and blood into my very _sanctum sanctorum."_

Edgeworth stared at the gold lion on the desk very hard and idly wished it would come to life. Not that things were bad. It's just that the black eye and split lip, well, they hurt. And Edgeworth was pretty sure his wrist wasn't supposed to bend like that.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." Manfred said. Miles snapped his head up and met Manfred's gaze evenly. He didn't flinch anymore.

"Not only do I take you in, I teach you the way of the prosecutor. I give you what it takes to be the best one in existence, in fact."

Once upon a time Miles would have thought _But I wanted to be a defense attorney_. Once upon a time, he might even have considered saying it. He didn't think that anymore.

"I even gave you a free day." Manfred said, still in the same smooth tone of voice. "Out of the goodness of my heart, I let you have a day to play outside. In return, you ruin the suit I provided for you and fail to protect my daughter! She bled all over the carpet coming in, Edgeworth! Do you have a grudge against me, your generous provider, Edgeworth?"

"No, sir."

"Do you hate me for every kind act I've done with you, perverse boy?"

"No, sir. I am grateful."

"Grateful." Manfred said so slowly that Edgeworth almost flinched again. "If you are so grateful, why--"

"Papa?" Franziska peeked her head around the massive wooden door. Her face had an ugly splotch of purple by the chin. "Papa, they put in the stitches and said you wanted to--Miles, your eye!"

Edgeworth didn't blink at her. Franziska drew her hands up to her throat and held them tightly together. It was a habit she never could force herself to drop. "Papa--papa, why--"

"Why what, Franziska?"

"Papa, he tried his hardest to stop them! And when he saw them coming, he told me to go back. It wasn't his fault, Papa. It--"

Manfred chuckled to himself. "My dear Franziska," He waggled his finger at her and smiled. "His eye was like that when he came in. Those teenagers must have done it to him. Sometimes black eyes take a little while to show up." His voice was smooth, almost melodical, and his face was open and earnest.

Franziska swallowed. Her next sentence was a whisper. "His bleeding lip, too, Papa?"

"Of course."

Franziska sent a questioning look at Miles. Miles kept his gaze carefully trained on Manfred.

"Anyways, what happens to him is none of your concern." Manfred said in one of the most soothing voices Miles had ever heard. "Just focus on learning to be a Prosecutor. I know you'll live up to your name someday."

"They said you wanted to see me." Franziska said quietly.

"Yes, come in." The girl stiffly walked up to the desk and kept her eyes trained on her father the whole time. Shoulders back, chin up, just like Manfred had taught her. "I have a present for you, in light of today's events..."

Franziska's eyes never left her father, but her hand reached out to grip one of Miles' own. The boy couldn't tell if it was his hand or hers that was shaking. He didn't look down. He didn't flinch anymore.

"Here." Manfred handed a black cardboard box across the table. It was flat and it was thin.

"Clothes, Papa? Thank you." Franziska let go of Miles and took the box gently. She started to back away.

"No, Franziska, open it here."

"Alright." The girl bit a lip and carefully lifted the top off the box. She saw what was inside, and gasped. Manfred's eyes were fixed on Miles. Miles looked back calmly and didn't even glance at the present. He didn't flinch anymore.

Franziska dropped the box on Manfred's desk. "It's a whip."

"Your grasp of the obvious is mind-boggling. Yes, it is a bullwhip, made of American leather, imported from Texas. Well, pick it up, Franziska. Don't you like the present I bought just for you?"

"O--Of course, Papa." Franziska picked up the handle as if it were a snake. She tugged on it a little and managed to coax the rest of the whip out of the box and onto the floor. She stood stiffly in front of Manfred and gingerly gripped it in both hands. "Thank you."

He chuckled and waggled his finger at her. "Don't you want to try out the present I bought for you, Franziska?"

"Yes, father." Franziska backed up a safe distance from the desk and turned to face the wall. She raised her right arm and gingerly tightened her grip on the handle.

"On Edgeworth."

"Wh--excuse me, Papa? I don't understand."

"It's his fault that those boys hurt you, isn't it?"

"Papa--it, no, it, it wasn't at all. He tried his hardest to..." She watched his eyebrow raise and trailed off.

"Franziska, I go through all the trouble of buying this for you and you won't do even this one little thing? It's only fair."

Edgeworth caught Franziska's gaze and shrugged. "It's okay" he mouthed at her.

Franziska shook her head. "You can have the whip back if you like, Papa. I don't want--"

"You are my daughter and you will do as I say!" Manfred stood.

"O--okay." Franziska looked at Miles. He smiled a little back. She raised an arm that was trembling violently and swung forward. The whip snapped ten feet in the air and then fell.

"Almost." Manfred said. "Try again."

Franziska shut her eyes and snapped her arm forward and back. There was a sickening sound, and when she opened her eyes Edgeworth had a small red line down the side of his face.

"Good, it works." Manfred said. "Edgeworth, we can finish our discussion later. It's seven o'clock. By now I'm sure you learned that dinner is promptly at six-thirty. Go straight to your room and study the Anne vs Harry case. Whether or not you have lunch will depend on your summary of the case in the morning. Do not bother to attend breakfast."

"Yes, Mr. von Karma." Edgeworth stepped away from the desk.

Manfred chuckled. "Aren't you going to thank me, Edgeworth?"

"...Thank you, Mr. von Karma." Edgeworth said and left the room.

"Now, Franziska, do you know what lesson those boys taught you?"

Franziska gripped the whip tightly. "No, father." She said in a surprisingly even voice. "I do not."

Manfred stood up and crossed over to her. "You are always going to be young for where you are in life. You are a von Karma, destined for perfection. And you have the misfortune of being born a woman. Do you know what this means?"

"No, father."

"It means that those boys will not be the only ones to get in your way." Manfred said. "And you cannot count on anyone to protect you or help you. There are people you can use in this world, and there are people that can use you. Most fall into both categories, but I promise you there is nobody who will ever be there to 'catch you when you fall'. Unless, of course, they think you can give them payment in full once you're back up. Trust yourself and keep slime at a distance. Am I clear?"

"Yes, father."

"I want you to practice using that whip tonight--on Edgeworth, if you want, but that's not a requirement--and show me how good you are tomorrow. Goodnight, Franziska."

"Goodnight, father." Franziska stopped at the door. "Father?"

"Yes?"

"I--I am hungry."

Manfred shrugged and smiled. "Dinner was at six-thrity. That was decided ages ago. I cannot afford to have the rules of this house broken."

"I understand." Franziska slipped out of the door. She didn't remember walking, but the next thing she knew she was inside her room and Edgeworth was hugging her.

"Listen, Franzy, it didn't hurt, don't worry, it was barely a scratch--"

"Let go of me!" Franziska shoved him away and tightened her grip on the whip handle. Her arm flew up and the whip responded, biting into the boy in less than a second. Edgeworth yelled and tripped over backwards. His head smashed into the dresser. "My name is Franziska von Karma, Miles Edgeworth! And you get!" Slash. "Out!" Crack. "Of!" Crachow. "My!" Rip. "Room!"

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A/N: Abusive dads suck. That, and "How did Franziska get that whip?" was pretty much the only motivation behind this. And Manfred scares me. Feed the author and review? This should continue, though I have no idea where to.


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